Cloudy

From Margaret Atwood Blind Assassin

There, you’ll be warmer. Now we’ll defy the law. We’ll loiter.
What about Keep Dogs on Leash?
We’ll defy that too. He doesn’t put his arm around her. He knows she wants him to. She expects it; she feels the touch in advance, as birds feel shadow. He’s got his cigarette going. He offers her one; this time she takes it. Brief match-flare inside their cupped hands. Red finger-ends.